


Pagtatagpo

by raikaya (rqyh)



Series: Everyotherday6 [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Red String of Fate, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, courtesy of Park Bros, gotta represent, it happened on valentine's day but it's not a valentine's day fic per se, this fic came outta nowhere, title means "encounter" in tagalog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/raikaya
Summary: Jaehyung had always been waiting on the day he would finally meet his soulmate, but he never imagined it to be like this.





	Pagtatagpo

**Author's Note:**

> Pag·ta·tag·po _noun_  
>  1\. an unexpected meeting with someone  
>      _synonyms:_ encounter
> 
> Tad·ha·na _noun_  
>  1\. events that happen beyond one's control, regarded as done by something else  
>      _synonyms:_ fate, destiny  
> 2\. a [song](https://open.spotify.com/album/4SjshYHT8OeSHB6zun2Hxx) by [Up Dharma Down](https://open.spotify.com/artist/3wbCeEPAW6po7J46netxMT), for which this fic's title is based off of and for which i made an [english translation](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao/status/1094314743458717696) for people who don't understand Tagalog

Jaehyung feels a pull at his pinky finger and glances to see the red thread wrapped around it get tugged yet again, forming an almost straight line instead of its usual relaxed state.

 _This is already the sixth time in the last twenty minutes,_ Jaehyung thinks to himself, keeping his eye on the thread. _What the hell is my soulmate even doing?_

               In the world that Jaehyung lives in, people are connected to each other through threads wrapped around their pinky finger. No one else can see that thread except the people connected—soulmates, as they are called, though not all of them are romantic.

               It's the color of the thread that tells you what kind of soulmate you have. Yellow for friends. Green for family. Black for enemies. And red for lovers. Sometimes, you can even have more than one soulmate, regardless of what type of soulmate it is.

               For Jaehyung, however, all he has is one—a single, hopefully-male lover connected to him through a single, red string.

               It’s been twenty-six years since the first time that thread attached itself onto his left pinky finger. His parents had been concerned that it seemed that he was threadless, but it just turned out that his soulmate had only just been brought into this world two years after Jaehyung had been. It’s probably the earliest memory Jaehyung has about this whole thing, though there have been many more that came.

               For his entire twenty-eight-year life, Jaehyung wondered what kind of person his only soulmate was. Wondered if they had the same interests as him, the same kind of humor as him, wondered just how far from him they were that they haven't even crossed paths once. He wondered what kind of smile they had, what kind of voice would slip out of their lips, and what it would feel like to have them hug him or for him to hug them.

               They say that the moment you meet your soulmate, it would be as if everything else that happened in the world couldn't compare to that single moment of seeing them for the first time.

               If that were the case, Jaehyung would have to expect for his lover to be _smoking_ hot. Hey, if the world is the one who chooses whom you fall in love with, then it better know Jaehyung’s preferences to the tea, right?

               But all joking aside, Jaehyung would be lying if he said there wasn't even a teensy, tiny drop of fear inside him—right at the center of his chest—at the thought that he might not even be able to _meet_ his soulmate. _Ever_.

               He's heard a multitude of stories about how some people had their strings come undone before they even had the chance to meet their soulmate—an indication that their fated one had just then left this world for good. Stories of people travelling all over the world just to find that their soulmate had cut off their end to be with someone else. Of people getting their hearts broken when the world did its best to make every heart a friend, a companion, a partner. Of people going against fate in favor of another.

               It scares him to no end—which is why he takes care not to think of it often. He can't imagine what it'd be like to lose someone he was meant to be with, someone the world decided was the best fit for him. Someone who must've been so perfect for him that it thought he didn't need anybody else. He wouldn't want to lose someone like that before he even knew what it was like to have them. He doesn't want to ever know what kind of feeling that could bring his poor, poor heart.

               The string gets tugged back again and Jaehyung snaps out of his Existential Thoughts At One In The Morning—thank god.

               He stares a little deadpan at how his string is once again making a straight line, as if trying to pull Jaehyung towards his fated lover and telling him, “It's about time you get laid, loser! Get that fucking bread!”

               “Soulmate, you don't know how grateful I am that the Strings of Fate can't be severed by anything except scissors at the hand of either of us,” Jaehyung says, “because if they were, you would've accidentally cut off all ties with me _years_ ago.”

               “Talking to the string again?” someone suddenly says, and Jaehyung jerks his head up to see Sungjin standing in the doorway with the messiest hair alive, a hand wrapped around a mug filled with what smells to be coffee _and_ alcohol(???), and the most judging look in mankind.

               “You do know that your soulmate is _attached_ to the string and not the string itself?” Sungjin teases with an amused smile, eyes almost half-lidded with how tired they look.

               “Considering the fact that I've never even _met_ them for twenty-eight years, this string might as well be wearing a wedding ring,” Jaehyung says, leaning back against his chair and stretching his arms forward. He takes care not to mess up the work he's done on his desk. “You look like shit,” he tells Sungjin with a pointed look; the guy just shrugs.

               “Better than a lunatic who just talks to an inanimate object all day.” Sungjin walks inside and flops down on Jaehyung’s bed, spreading his arms wide as if making a snow angel. “Work has been extra tough recently. I don't think I've ever seen a case this… messy before.”

               “Is it murder? Please, tell me it's murder.”

               “It is unethical for me to disclose such private and confidential information—especially to the likes of an irresponsible like you.”

               “Ugh, you're no fun,” Jaehyung says, rolling his eyes, and turning back to his work. Maybe he should title this next song as “Park Sungjin Is A Boring Old Man, And Here Are Thirteen Reasons Why”.

               Sungjin has been Jaehyung’s best friend since elementary school, when Jaehyung approached him thinking they must have been long-lost brothers or something since they shared the same name. Sungjin had explained that not everyone with the same last name were relatives because there were still clans to take into consideration, and Jaehyung had been so shook that he begged the teacher to change his seat to the one right next to Sungjin, needing more moments of life-defining experiences.

               The guy is one of the few people with more than one soulmate, and even more so one of the few with no romantic ones. On his right pinky, as Sungjin had described to Jaehyung once before, was a green thread attached to his cousin, and on his left pinky was a yellow one, attached to someone he has yet to meet.

               Thinking about it now, Jaehyung finds himself staring at Sungjin’s left hand, finding no thread attached to it but knowing there must be one. He wonders if his soulmate also tugs at the string every now and then.

               “Hey, Sungjin,” Jaehyung starts, turning to look up at the ceiling with a tilted head, “when do you think you'll meet your other soulmate?”

               “You mean the one on my left?” Jaehyung nods. “Not sure. You don't really know when these things happen. More people have died looking for their soulmates than people who just calmly waited. And besides, I have Dowoon, so if I never meet them, it isn't that big of a loss.”

               Jaehyung nods to himself, humming a little. At least for Sungjin, he's got someone to fall back on, as borderline unethical as that sounds. He already knows the feeling of having a soulmate—has known it for twenty-six years now, actually—so, like he said, never meeting his second isn't that much of a big deal.

               How lucky.

               Jaehyung feels something hit the back of his head and he turns to see Sungjin with his hand in the middle of coming back down, the crumpled piece of paper dropping to the ground. He must’ve ripped a page off the notebook on his bed drawer.

               “You'll meet them, hyung,” Sungjin says with a face as serious as Harry’s godfather. “I’m sure of it.”

               Jaehyung cracks a smile and playfully throws the paper ball back to Sungjin’s end, though the detective has enough wit and reflexes to catch it.

               “Oh, yeah,” Sungjin says, sitting up on the bed. “Speaking of Dowoonnie, guess what—kid finally met his romantic soulmate three days ago.”

               Jaehyung almost trips out of his swivel chair, feeling his entire being get more hyped up than the concerts of the artists he makes songs for.

               “ _Holy fuck—what_?” Jaehyung almost yells. “Why didn't you tell me?”

               “I only found out today—Dowoonnie video-chatted me with the guy sitting next to him and it was honestly so surprising that I think I might have repressed the memory at the back of my mind.”

               “Yoooo, but holy _shit_ ,” Jaehyung is saying, placing both hands on either side of his head, still processing the entire thing. “Dowoon’s been waiting literally for his _entire life_ to meet with his romantic soulmate— _holy_ shit.”

               Jaehyung puts his hands down and faces Sungjin fully, body buzzing with excitement.

               “Dude, you've gotta invite the both of them out for lunch or something—I wanna know what kind of person the world thought was the perfect match for our Dowoonnie,” he says, intent on not taking no for an answer.

               Sungjin just hums a little at that, looking a little reluctant about it for some reason.

               “Well… I don't really mind, but…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I don't think it's a good idea to be right next to them when they're together…”

               Jaehyung blinks. “What? Why? Are they not a good match?”

               He’s also heard stories of soulmates just not clicking with each other no matter what they did—one of the few times the world made a mistake.

               “No, it’s… something else entirely…”

               Sungjin just continues scratching his neck, and Jaehyung wonders what exactly he means by that.

 

Jaehyung stares deadpan at the scene before him, now knowing exactly what he meant by that.

               Dowoon’s soulmate is literally all over Dowoon right now, both of his arms wrapped around the guy’s torso, head rested in the crook of his neck. His face holds an expression of pure and utter bliss, looking as if he could die happy at that exact same moment.

               Meanwhile, Dowoon, the victim of his soulmate’s unabashed public display of affection, is about as red as a tomato, ears even redder. He looks like he also could die at this exact same moment, though for a very different reason.

               “Dowoon?” Jaehyung starts after a long period of silence.

               “Yes, hyung?” Dowoon replies, looking as awkward as Jaehyung felt.

               “You _really_ bit off more than you can chew.”

               Dowoon slumps in his seat, bending his head down in defeat.

               “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

               Yoon Dowoon is Sungjin’s cousin and his familial soulmate, attached to him by a green string wrapped around his left pinky. Jaehyung had first met him back in middle school, when he and Sungjin had to do a project together and Dowoon had been over at Sungjin’s to play with his dog and cat. (Dowoon was too young to have his own pet so that was what he had to settle with.)

               As years passed by and Dowoon started to hang out with Jaehyung and Sungjin more, Jaehyung had started to grow a fondness for the kid, finding his passion for the drums endearing and loving how he's such a big ball of sunshine even though sometimes he can be the biggest little shit in the entire universe.

               Dowoon had always been there to shed happiness to the both of them in the goofiest way possible, especially to Sungjin, who—of course, being his soulmate—had a special connection to him, making sure he's all safe and sound, happy and happier, patting him on the head so fondly that it kinda made Jaehyung jealous sometimes. The two were always together, for better and worse, and being both their friends was a blessing Jaehyung could never want to take for granted.

               But although Dowoon has both Sungjin and Jaehyung, _plus_ the rest of his family and friends, there was “always something missing with him, as if there was this kind of longing that he just couldn't satiate until he found that certain something. Something that he just needed to have, no matter what the cost.”

               (Don't ask Jaehyung how he grabbed hold of Dowoon’s diary and read through twelve pages of self-insert fanfiction; it was an _accident_.)

               All his life, Jaehyung watched Dowoon looking out to all the romantic couples as if he wanted to know how it would feel like to have one of his own, too, how it'd feel like to finally meet that special someone, how Jaehyung always feels, day-to-day.

               It always made Jaehyung a little blue to see their little ball of sunshine turn into a rain cloud every now and then, longing, wishing. Jaehyung would say something like, “Don't worry about meeting your soulmate—you've already got your hyungs here!” but he didn’t want to be a hypocrite.

               So, finding out that Dowoon finally (finally), _finally_ found his romantic soulmate felt like Jaehyung found _his_ , and the amount of excitement that bubbled up inside of him was absolutely _umpteen_. His friend—their one and only _baby boy_ —was finally getting the one thing he's been waiting for his entire life, the one thing he's only ever wished for!

               Even though it seems like he got _more_ than what he wished for.

               “Sorry about Younghyunnie-hyung, hyungs,” Dowoon apologizes with a sigh. “He's been like this since the day we met. He’s just… really affectionate.”

               “Psh, _affectionate_.” Younghyun actually rolls his eyes at that. “It’s called being in love, Dowoon-ah. ‘Affectionate’ doesn't cut it.”

               In all honesty, Jaehyung’s surprise at how much of an advocate of PDA this Younghyun guy is comes more from the fact that he'd never expect such a thing to come from a guy like _him_ , rather than just plain disgust at the boldness of the youth nowadays.

               When Sungjin and Jaehyung entered the café thirty minutes ago, they found Younghyun—full name Kang Younghyun—sitting by the window alone and with the meanest, scariest, and most intimidating Resting Bitch Face known to mankind.

               Jaehyung had actually recoiled from his expression and begged an indifferent Sungjin to sit on an empty table, at least until Dowoon arrived at the scene.

               Peering at him behind the menu, Jaehyung had wondered how on Earth Dowoon ended up with a soulmate like _him_ , when Dowoon’s type is literally someone who would baby him to no end, someone who he can look up to, and someone whose heart “is as big as the universe—that is, me, as I would be his world.”

               (Seriously, Dowoon could probably make it really good in the writing industry.)

               It worried Jaehyung to no end in those few minutes how the person his friend—their one and only baby boy—was going to share the rest of his life with was a man whose looks could maybe _actually_ kill, who looked like he stole candy from little girls and little boys for _fun_ , and who looked _nothing_ like Dowoon’s ideal type, maybe save for his good looks but that is not the fucking point.

               If their one and only baby boy was gonna share the rest of his eternity with a guy like that, why—Jaehyung might actually throw some hands.

               In fact, he was just about to get up and do exactly just that when the bell to the café sounded and the foot of a familiar face stepped onto the ceramic floor, looking around for more familiar faces.

               Dowoon’s eyes had caught Younghyun’s after a few seconds, and he called out, “Younghyunnie-hyung! I’m b—”

               And suddenly, the person that Jaehyung had claimed to be a murderer in his mind fucking got up and _nyoomed_ his way to Dowoon faster than the speed of light, immediately wrapping him in the tightest hug known to mankind.

               “Dowoon-ah!” Younghyun greeted. Seeing the grin on his face felt to Jaehyung like seeing Jesus. “I've missed you!”

               “Hyung, I was literally gone for ten minutes,” Dowoon said, though his ears were turning red and he returned Younghyun’s hug with one of his own. “Are the other guys here yet?”

               “I’m not sure? The only one I remember was that Sungjin-hyung, but no one’s gone to the table yet.”

               “Really? But Jaehyungie-hyung texted—”

               And at that exact same moment, Dowoon had finally locked eyes with Jaehyung, who was staring at the two of them, not hiding his surprise nor his judgement.

               And at that exact same moment, Dowoon had turned redder than Jaehyung had ever seen him do before.

               And at this moment, with Sungjin planting his deadpan face into the window pane next to Jaehyung, and Dowoon seated across him with the world’s most affectionate soulmate in the universe, Jaehyung can already tell that Younghyun is _definitely_ the perfect fit for Dowoon. _Definitely_.

               “Well, affectionate or not,” Sungjin finally speaks after thirty minutes of complete, deadpan silence, “how have you two been holding up? Is everything clicking? Have you been hitting it off well?”

               Jaehyung tries to push the smile down his face, recognizing the concern in Sungjin’s tone. Ah, Sungjin. You big softie, you.

               “Actually, hyung, it’s been surprisingly good so far,” Dowoon says, one hand holding onto the arm wrapped around his shoulder. “I didn't want to expect too much since not every single soulmate is a perfect fit, but… but surprisingly, everything _just_ … fits.”

               “What do you mean?” Jaehyung asks, leaning forward on the table, curious.

               “Well, we have the same interests, like to travel the same way, eat the same kinds of food. He’s in business marketing and I’m a drum teacher, but our daily schedules don't clash at all. And hyung is a really, really nice person. Not only that, but also really…”

               Dowoon had faltered, suddenly glancing at Younghyun with a certain look. He ends up eyeing down Younghyun’s face for a few seconds before his ears turn redder and he whips his head back to the front.

               “S-something else,” Dowoon finishes, stuttering a little as a smirk pulls up Younghyun’s face.

 _He thinks Younghyun’s hot,_ Jaehyung thinks. _He most definitely thinks he's hot._

               “Yeah, I completely agree on all of that,” Younghyun says, chin settled down on Dowoon’s shoulder. “It’s all just been so surprising for me, too, to have a soulmate like Dowoon. He’s so much more different than I had imagined, but also so much better.

               “To be honest... for the longest time, I’d sort of… given up on finding my soulmate. I mean—it’s been twenty-seven years. You'd think I'd have met my soulmate a long time ago, you know?

               “But the moment I met Dowoon for the first time, I… it felt like I had lost a big portion of my life, but then it all came back to me in that one instant. Everything was _right_. Everything was meant to _be_. And you were everything I never knew I needed.”

               Younghyun is talking to Dowoon now, and the other looks back at him, as if he was looking at the entire universe—that is, Younghyun, because he was his world.

               “It was perfect, that moment of meeting you,” Younghyun continues. “And I know it's only been four days, but this short amount of time told me that you're someone I’m gonna love for a very long time. And if I _will_ love you, then don't I already do?”

               Dowoon looks back at Younghyun with a look Jaehyung’s never seen before, something foreign, something new. Something only he could experience. The feeling of loving someone else in a way only he can.

               Dowoon reaches out an arm towards Sungjin and Jaehyung’s direction, putting one index finger out.

               Then, he does a circling motion, and Jaehyung gets the message. _Look away. Right now. Unless you wanna see me eat face with my man._

               Sungjin re-plants his face in the window as Jaehyung turns to the side and covers his eyes, but not without a tiny, cheeky smile, knowing the kiss before even seeing it.

 

Jaehyung walks on the icy, Winter streets of the city with both hands in his jacket, maybe condemning the world for making today so much colder than usual.

               The four of them had left the café after about an hour and a half of chatting and catching up with each other. Younghyun and Dowoon retreated to hang out at Dowoon’s place (the look in both their eyes told Jaehyung they were probably gonna spend a lot of time on the bed, in particular), Sungjin said he was needed at the precinct for an emergency (it was really that one of their coworkers was being a whiny dirtbag and didn't want to be in charge of a “minor” case), and Jaehyung just decided on getting his way home, humming the tune to the song he's been working on.

               The streets are flooded with people today, despite the extreme coldness of the weather. Jaehyung swears he just saw a random guy pass by, completely covered in the thickest jacket known to mankind, but holding what looked like to be iced fucking coffee.

 _That was a gay_ , Jaehyung thinks. _That was most definitely a gay_.

               As Jaehyung continues humming his tune, his eyes find their way to the surroundings around him—the snow, the lights, the buildings. The people. And the couples that are roaming around and about him.

               There are more couples than usual today, more people holding hands and smiling at each other. More people who had caught the February fever like a virus spreading around at a fast rate. More buildings and shops decorated with hearts and arrows colored in red and pink, despite the silver of the snow. 

               Gradually, Jaehyung’s humming falters to a deathly silence, and he looks down at his boots, watching them step onto the snow on the street at a slower pace than his usual. The image of Dowoon and Younghyun pressed against each other with satisfaction written on their faces plays in his mind, like a recurring memory or thought, even though he’s only ever seen that image once.

               In all honesty, as much as Jaehyung would love to be completely and a hundred percent happy for Dowoon and Younghyun, he still can’t push down the bitterness settled deep, deep in his heart, wondering why on Earth _he_ hasn’t found his soulmate yet.

               It’s not like Jaehyung’s a bad guy or did anything wrong in his life. He’s always been truthful and always been honest, and kind, and caring, and selfless to the people around him. He’s always tried to make people know that they’re cared for, always tried to cheer them up with a joke when they’re down, always ready to hang out if they ever said a word.

               Jaehyung’s a good guy—not an angel, but he can attest to that, at least. So, why is the world acting like it’s punishing him for being otherwise?

               It sucks when he gets like this, moping around like a whiny five-year-old who didn’t get what he wanted. Wondering why the world is treating him like this. Wondering what he did to deserve this; why all of this is happening to him.

               He’s being dramatic—he knows that—but the sadness is still there, lurking, with every single glance he gives to the couples walking past, with the fresh memories of Younghyun and Dowoon smiling at each other and holding hands, with thinking about how Sungjin had known who his soulmate was the year Dowoon was born. How happy they must be, and their lives, too. How wonderful it must be to know you’re loved in the most special way possible.

               Jaehyung wants that. Jaehyung also wants to be loved. He knows he’s his own person and he doesn’t need anyone else and that he’s whole even without a soulmate,

               But it’s lonely to know you have one but not know who they are. It’s lonely to know one day you’ll be loved when today is not that day. And it’s lonely to keep hoping that the next person you meet, the next person you’ll greet, the next person you’ll say hello to is the person you’ll be sharing your life with, but then seeing their fingers threadless.

               It’s an aching feeling, loneliness. A feeling settled right at the center of your chest. To feel like a part of you had been taken away when you’ve been alone all your life. To want something that you _can_ have, but not now, not right now.

               It hurts. It really hurts. And it sucks. It really, really sucks.

               Jaehyung just wants to be loved like how Younghyun is loved by Dowoon. He just wants to love someone as Sungjin loves Dowoon. And he wants to hold hands with somebody, press his lips onto the cheek of that somebody, just like everybody else in the world, just like the world promised him he’ll be doing, someday, sometime sooner, or later.

               In the midst of all the thoughts flooding in his mind, Jaehyung doesn’t notice the car coming fast his way.

               “Hey, watch out!”

               All of the sudden, Jaehyung is being yanked away from the streets by the arm, caught completely off-guard, the side of the speeding car only hitting him by the hair, the gush of wind that came after like a wake-up call to everything that’s ever happened in his entire life.

               Jaehyung stares wide-eyed in front of him, trying to come over his shock, slowly processing everything that just happened. The traffic light is colored bright red, a couple of passersby across the street are staring at him with equally wide eyes, and his lungs are breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down in big strides, nerves running up and down even to the tips of his fingers.

               “—ou hear me? I’m asking if you’re okay—sir, are you okay?”

               Jaehyung snaps out of his thoughts and suddenly remembers the hand that pulled him back from a dead-end future.

 _Holy fuck, I actually could have really_ died, Jaehyung thinks, but he leaves the epiphany to turn around and thank his savior.

               “Holy shit, thank you for pulling me b—”

               It happens in a split-second, maybe three seconds, or a minute at most. But the moment Jaehyung laid his eyes on the person who saved him, it felt like eternity stared back at him, in the form of brown eyes and brown hair, all of it and all of him looking perfect.

               It felt like everything that ever happened in his life happened just for this exact moment. Like a key turning every single gear in a lock open with a single _click_. Like opening the lid of a jar with a single _pop_ after twisting and turning it around for thirty minutes. Like a person diving from high, high up to finally plunge into the water with a _splash_.

               It was like color had started seeping into his black-and-white world, staining his heart, and coloring it a rich, rich red. Feeling every single particle in the air settle down, down, down, falling in icy droplets, dropping like snow. Settling. Staying. Everything clicking. Everything falling into place.

               Like Jaehyung had lost a big portion of his life, but then it all came back to him in that one instant. Where everything was right, for the first time. _Correct_ , for the first time. Where everything, in that exact same moment, was meant to be.

               Perfect. Perfect as perfect can be.

               Jaehyung kept staring at the man before him, who was staring just as starstruck as he did. Brown hair parted in the middle, almost over his eyes. Brown eyes staring wide-eyed, so dark they were almost black. A hand still grabbing onto his arm, the touch warmer than Jaehyung’s ever felt, warmer than any cup of coffee or hot chocolate, warmer than the blankets that covered his bed.

               Almost instantly, Jaehyung’s eyes shoot down to the man’s right hand, the one not grabbing onto him, and spots it. The thread. Red as ever, redder than anything. Wrapped around his pinky finger. Just like the one wrapped around Jaehyung’s left finger.

               Except. The string attached to the man’s finger is stretching out to a different direction, far, far from the direction of Jaehyung’s hand. The closer you are to your soulmate, the shorter the string becomes. The farther you are, the farther your string goes.

               And neither of their threads are connected to each other.

               Jaehyung feels his heart plummet down and crash into his chest, the impact almost unbearable. The hurt more painful than it was before. Color seeping out of his chest. Keys slipping in to the wrong locks.

               “You’re…” Jaehyung starts, almost in a whisper, turning to look back at the man in front of him. “You’re not my soulmate.”

               The man breathes out as well, little puffs of cloud slipping out of his lips. He must’ve seen it, too—realized it, too—their threads.

               “I…” he says, almost breathless. “I guess not.”

               Jaehyung looks down, feeling water come up his feet, up his ankles, his torso, submerging him in it, drowning him in a sea of muffled noises, echoes, there but not really there.

               “I was so sure…” Jaehyung falters, almost saying the words to himself. How could this be? How could any of this be? Why was any of this happeni—

               “H-hey! Don’t look too upset!”

               Jaehyung looks up to see the man trying a reassuring smile. He removes his hand from Jaehyung’s arm to hold his hand instead—both of them, actually.

               “You just survived something that could’ve killed you!” the man presses further. “That’s enough reason to celebrate, right?”

               Jaehyung finds himself breathing out a laughter, despite it all. This man has a positive attitude that Jaehyung could never even begin to imagine.

               “Even though it seems we’re not soulmates,” the man continues, “that just means you’re one more day closer to really meeting them. Right?”

               Jaehyung sighs, defeated. “Right, right…” he says, shaking his head a little. “What are you—a motivational speaker?”

               “I’m actually a kindergarten teacher.”

               “Somehow, that makes more sense.”

               The man grins at him, and Jaehyung finds it mesmerizing, eye-catching, like he never wants to see anything else in the entire world.

               Funny, how he’s only felt this feeling once, and it’s for a man who isn’t even his soulmate.

               “My name is Kim Wonpil,” the man introduces with a wide grin. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk?”

 

Jaehyung keeps his hands in his pockets as he’s settled down on a bench, the park with a considerably smaller number of people compared to the business district—obviously due to the lack of opportunities to “showcase your love on Valentine’s Day” due to the capitalist agenda. Jaehyung is still not sure how no one has realized it yet.

               Turning his head over the side, he watches Kim Wonpil hover his finger over a button on the vending machine near the lampost, bottom lip out in a pout and eyebrows crumpled in concentration—or maybe, indecision. Either way, he’s been there for maybe ten minutes now. Either way, Jaehyung doesn’t mind.

               It’s mind-boggling, really, how perfect everything had been thirty minutes ago when he met Wonpil for the first time. It had been everything everyone else had described to him, all the signs pointing to this man—to this stranger—telling him that he was the one. He had been so sure—so sure of it like he had never been sure of anything else in his entire life—but spotting that thread and how it wasn’t connected to him made him wonder if there really was anything he can be sure about in this world.

               His eyes fall onto the thread now, the one hanging on Wonpil’s finger. The way it falls down to the ground in a relaxed state, and trails far, far beyond what Jaehyung can see. It’s even on the right side—on Wonpil’s _right_ pinky, in line with Jaehyung’s left one. The strings connecting soulmates are always placed so that they’re comfortably hanging between them, getting shorter with the distance.

               Not to mention the fact that Wonpil told him he was twenty-six years old this year, the same age his soulmate was supposed to be. It’s almost perfect, how coincidental all of the circumstances are. Like the world is telling him that Wonpil could’ve been his soulmate, but knowing it was too good to be true.

               The sound of metal dropping on metal pulls Jaehyung out of his thoughts, and he watches Wonpil mouth a tiny, “Yes!” as he bends down to grab two cans of whatever from the mouth of the vending machine. He straightens his back, looks down and around him for some reason, before doing a little step dance around the thread that somehow circled around him when earlier it was completely clear of tangles.

               Well, from the few minutes Jaehyung’s met this guy, he can already tell how jumpy of a guy he is, so maybe he kept shifting the weight of his feet from one foot to another and somehow got his thread tangled up in the mess, too.

               Wonpil finally turns to Jaehyung with a grin on his face and starts walking over to him, a can in either hand, the red string following him where he goes.

               “Sorry it took so long,” he apologizes, sitting down next to Jaehyung with a sigh. “I was guessing which one you’d want.”

               “Oh, so you weren’t buying two for yourself?”

               Wonpil rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” But there’s a smile on his face.

               He hands Jaehyung a can and he takes it with a thanks, feeling grateful for the warmth spreading onto the palm of his hand.

               When he reads the label, he breathes out a laughter.

               “What is it?” Wonpil asks, leaning forward to look at him sideways. “Did you want something else?”

               “No,” Jaehyung says, shaking his head. “This is actually my favorite flavor.”

               At that, a wide grin spreads across Wonpil’s face and Jaehyung can see pink coloring in his cheeks.

               “Thank god!” he says, pulling back to sit back against the bench. “I was worried I’d get something you absolutely hated but thank god my intuition was right.”

               “Your intuition?” Jaehyung echoes.

               Wonpil shrugs. “I just had a feeling you’d like that one.”

               Jaehyung watches him look down with a smile on his face, maybe with a little bit of sadness mixed in there. His fingers are wrapped around what he assumes to warm, hot chocolate, if the steam dancing around his hand and the images on the can are anything to come by. Jaehyung turns away to pop his own can open, smelling the comforting aroma and tasting the flavor of coffee.

               “It really feels like we’re soulmates, doesn’t it?” Wonpil asks and Jaehyung almost chokes on his drink; he tries to swallow as smoothly as possible. “I was really surprised when I looked at you—I’d never felt anything like that before in my whole life.”

               Jaehyung puts his coffee down, fingers wrapping around it as well.  He lets out a silent sigh.

               “Same here,” he says, remembering that split-second moment, wishing he could relive it.

               “It was really… nice,” Wonpil says, almost wistfully. He’s looking up at something in the distance, maybe watching the memory play in front of his eyes. “Kind of like… how do I put it… like finding the last piece of the puzzle. Or… or tasting the flavor of my favorite sweet as if it was the first time. Or… or—”

               “Or like you lost a big portion of your life,” Jaehyung interjects, “but suddenly it all came back to you in that one moment?”

               “Yeah!” Wonpil turns to him with a giggle. “That’s exactly how it felt.”

               Jaehyung finds himself smiling a little, hearing his laughter. The ache in his chest is now paired with a different kind.

               “I can’t believe that we aren’t actually soulmates, though,” Wonpil says, though not as sad as Jaehyung would expect. More like he’s accepted it, or that he feels calm despite it. “I don’t even know how I can see your string.”

               At that, Jaehyung lifts his hand up instinctively, lifting the red thread up with it. It dangles from where it hangs, swaying with the slight wind. Wonpil looks at it with a child-like curiosity.

               “Would it be fine if I could hold it?” he asks, eyes trained on it. “I’ve never seen someone else’s string before.”

               “Go ahead,” Jaehyung says with a shrug, and Wonpil places his hot chocolate on the space between them, scooting a bit closer to him so he could hold the string in between his fingers, looking mesmerized beyond measure.

               “It looks exactly like mine…” Wonpil falters, almost like he’s just saying it to himself. “Amazing…”

               Contrary to how they present the strings in childhood stories and the media, the threads of fate aren’t magical lines that glow or are always in perfect shape or swirl around the breeze with cherry blossoms flying in the air and Park Hyoshin singing in the background. The threads of fate actually act as actual, physical threads, like the ones they use to make clothes, or embroidery, or whatever it is that Jaehyung has no knowledge at.

               The only magical thing to them, probably, is how no human except the connected soulmates can see them. Animals can see them, as well, and can even touch them (in the distance, Jaehyung can actually see a cat pressing a paw repeatedly on his line of thread and then jumping up as if it hurt it; then, it does it again and it’s just a never-ending cycle of Why Do Cats Act Like This), but they can never sever them—only the soulmates can do that, either by a pair of scissors or death.

               The threads don’t go through inanimate objects either, though Jaehyung wished they did because there was this one time his thread got stuck at a door once and it was a really bad timing because he needed to go to the bathroom _right then_. The thread would usually end up getting unwounded someway and somehow, so such casualties aren’t that common, though they are also not rare.

               Jaehyung eyes the way Wonpil has the thread wrapped around his fingers, somehow getting it all tangled up just like he did with his own thread, and lets another puff of laughter leave his lips.

               “Can I just take a guess?” he asks and Wonpil looks up. “Are you a clumsy person?”

               “Woah, yeah!” Wonpil nods, looking surprised. “I don’t think there’s ever a day when I don’t bump into at least _something_. How’d you know?”

               “You were tangled up in your thread a while ago. And now you’ve got mine tangled up in your fingers. You didn’t even look like you were trying to.”

               Wonpil grins sheepishly. “It’s a bad habit. I keep getting my string tangled up in all sorts of places.”

               Jaehyung smiles at him, feeling something swell in him, with the way Wonpil is smiling at him, with the words that leave his lips.

               “You really do, don’t you,” he says, keeping that smile on his face.

               For a moment, it’s vulnerable. For a moment, it’s only eyes staring at each other, a can of hot chocolate unopen between them, coffee held by one hand, not even finished.

               Then, Wonpil leans in, slowly, slowly, slowly, as if he’s contemplating if this is right, if this is wrong, but still moving as if he doesn’t care where his thoughts lead him. He’s got his eyes trained on Jaehyung’s lips, not looking away.

               And Jaehyung is looking right at him, right at this almost-perfect moment. If only they were soulmates. If only they were meant to be. If only the world told them they were. If only the world didn’t tell them anything.

               Jaehyung closes his eyes and feels a pair of lips intertwine with his, telling him, “Let’s make our own world,” telling him, “Let’s be the world that tells us who we are.”

               He reaches a hand out and places it on Wonpil’s neck, pulling him closer as Wonpil’s fingers crumple Jaehyung’s shirt, getting closer and closer to him as well. He feels warmth spread across his body, a drop of color stain his heart, and he’s fairly certain Wonpil’s got his thread still wrapped around his fingers, because not once did he let go.

               They kiss and kiss and kiss. Pull away just to kiss again. Get even closer if that is even possible. And kiss as if there is no end.

               Every single kiss Jaehyung gives and receives feels like a repeat of that moment from before, the moment when he saw Wonpil’s eyes for the first time, when he felt his touch for the first time. Perfect, if not almost-perfect. Beautiful like it already is.

               Correct. Right. Meant to be. No matter what the world says they are.

               At one point, Wonpil slowly pulls away, telling Jaehyung he won’t be leaning back in, at least not for another minute. And Jaehyung opens his eyes, slowly, staring at the most beautiful man before him, whose eyes are dark brown and whose cheeks are bright pink, who’s clumsy and quirky and positive and kind, and who is just the perfect fit for him, and whom Jaehyung is the perfect fit for.

               Wonpil leans in to kiss him again. And again. And again. Three fleeting kisses. Three stolen ones. Fingers grabbing at his shirt. Fingers with two threads wrapped around them.

               “It doesn’t feel wrong,” Wonpil whispers, “does it?”

               Jaehyung leans in to kiss him again. And again. And again.

               “No,” he whispers. “No, it does not.”

 

The door to Jaehyung’s room closes and he flops down on his bed, spreading his arms out like he’s making a snow angel. He stares up at the ceiling, the entire black mass of it, and finds that he doesn’t mind not seeing anything.

               They stayed together for the rest of the day, walking next to each other in the streets, hands holding, fingers linked, even when their threads lead to different directions. Going places they weren’t allowed to. Pretending they were meant to be even when they weren’t.

               Wonpil had walked Jaehyung home, telling him there was somewhere he needed to be. They stayed standing in front of the door to his apartment building, the light of the building and the light of the moon overhead the only things watching over them. Hands still linked in front of them. Lips still interlocked even when Jaehyung said goodbye.

               He didn’t take care to ask where Wonpil lived, or what his number was, or if he even wanted to meet up again. He didn’t want to prolong the hurt that’ll eventually sink deeper into his chest the moment Wonpil finds his soulmate. And he didn’t want to make the guilt that’ll eventually pierce him like a knife to his chest more painful the moment he meets his.

               Jaehyung finds himself just staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing, and still, everything. All that’s happened today. All that didn’t. A single face blaring in his mind. A single taste lingering on his lips.

               Eventually, Jaehyung sits up and goes to his desk. He pulls out his chair, takes out his notebook from the drawer, and sits. He extracts a random black pen from its container and opens to the page he’s been working on.

               And he works.

               He works, and works, and works. Until nine o'clock becomes ten o’clock. Until ten becomes midnight. All he does is work his hands the way he’s used to, body moving faster than his mind, everything blocked and blank, save for the pages on his desk.

               Eventually, he stares down at his work, at the jumble of lyrics all mismatched and disorganized, like bits of pieces of different songs all scattered onto one page, all the ink poured out, none left in his pen.

               Jaehyung goes to pull out a pencil case from his drawer, the big one that Sungjin gifted him as a joke because Jaehyung always kept all of his things scattered about, and unzips it.

               To find a pair of scissors lying beside the pens, pencils, and erasers.

               Jaehyung stares down at it, not moving his hands a single inch. His mind is a blank page, his nerves are a shaky pen, and his heart is ink spilling out of its container, the bottle fallen to its side.

               Eventually, his hands find that they can move again, and his fingers slip their way through the handles. His eyes find themselves looking down at his left hand and trail a path starting from his pinky.

               A single, red string. Connected to a single, red lover. Chosen by the world. Deemed the best fit for him.

               Best, but not perfect. Jaehyung knows what perfection looks like.

               He places the scissors just so that the thread lies down right between the blades, red, red as ever.

               He thinks of a grinny smile. A giggly laugh. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Fingers intertwining. Fingers intertwined. Lips locked in each other. Lips locked onto each other. His lips. Their lips. Together.

               He closes the gap between the blades, closing his eyes as if he doesn’t want to see it happening—

               When he feels a tug at his left pinky.

               Jaehyung opens his eyes, the blades of the scissors merely a centimeter away from cutting the thread.

               His eyes find a path to the string wrapped around his left pinky, at the way it’s making an almost straight line, getting tugged as if spelled by someone, as if pulling Jaehyung, telling him, “It’s time.”

               Jaehyung throws the scissors down to the floor and runs out of the door, following the path his thread made for him, following it for the first time.

               He pays no mind to Sungjin asking why he’s in a rush, pays no mind to the way he trips down the stairs of the apartment, pays no mind to the undried cement on the street that he almost stepped on, only one thing on his mind.

               His feet run to wherever there’s red in front of him, steps rushing to follow the line becoming shorter with every breath he takes. He sprints across streets, runs through red lights, bumps into everyone around him, feels the Winter cold thawing more and more, clouds forming around him, clouds left in the dust.

               He runs further and further away from the center of the city, away from the smoke, away from the cars, away from the buildings, until he finds himself in an area where it’s just trees, just brambles, just rocks and rivers and a gamble he was desperate to play.

               At one point, he finds himself in the middle of the forest, so thick in branches and shrubs and rubble that Jaehyung had no space to freely run in anymore, just walk and crawl and maneuver his way in smartly, his tall and lanky stature now a hindrance.

 _This is crazy_ , he thinks, breathing heavy, heavily. _This is so fucking crazy_.

               But he walks through it anyway, bending down, lifting branches up, catching his breath, catching sight of the thread and not losing sight of it either. His eyes are staring right ahead, right at tangled lines of red, and every step he takes he gets closer to it, closer to them, whoever they might be.

               Eventually, there becomes less trees, less branches, less shrubs, and less rubble, Jaehyung’s vision becoming less crowded, the thread becoming less tangled in everything around him. He can feel his breath leave him, his lungs much, much too tired, his mind fogging up, his eyes blinking to keep what’s in front of him clear.

               And then, a voice.

               “Ugh, how did it even end up here?”

               He stops. Just short. Just short of what’s in front of him. There’s a single branch covering his vision, what’s behind it looking like a single clearing.

               Then, he moves forward and finds everything as clear as glass.

               A tree in a patch of grass, all the other trees circling around it. A line of red reaching high, high up on a branch just low enough for Jaehyung to reach. Lines of red circling around the branch as if it didn’t want to let go of it, spiraling round and round like a merry-go-round.

               A man looking up at the branch with his arms stretched out, trying to reach for it, trying to reach for the string. Jaehyung’s string. Which is coiled and stuck like a laughter of cruel relief.

               The other end of the string is attached to the man’s right pinky, moving up and down with him.

               “I don’t even _remember_ going to the forest—why on Earth is this even here?”

               Jaehyung takes one step. And then another. Keeps taking more and more and more, until he sees more and more and more of him. He has the lines of his face memorized. Has the taste of his lips etched onto his. Has the feeling of his hand on his skin lingering, like a memory.

               The man turns to look at him, and Jaehyung sees the smile that memory can’t reenact, nothing comparing to it.

               “Jaehyungie-hyung!” Wonpil exclaims with a surprised expression, the corners of his lips pulling the sides of his face wide, wide, wide. “I have no idea why you’re here but thank god you are. I got my thread wrapped around this branch for some reason, and I could really use some h—”

               Wonpil stops short, and Jaehyung watches his eyes trail a path from the branch, to the string coiled around it, down to where it’s headed across him, down to where it’s hugging Jaehyung’s left pinky.

               And Wonpil slowly looks up at him, eyes wide in silence, as Jaehyung continues on his way towards him, keeping his mouth a thin line.

               He reaches the branch, reaches high, high up, and starts uncoiling the thread from it, carefully, as to not break it.

               When you unravel thread from a rod, you’d expect to be left with long, longer lines of thread in your palm. The more you unravel, the more thread you get, the longer it becomes.

               But the more Jaehyung unravels, the less thread is left. The more Jaehyung uncoils, the shorter the string becomes.

               And when Jaehyung finally removes all the red from the branch, the line becomes the shortest it can possibly be, the shortest distance it can possibly make, only a foot’s distance away from the hands that connect through it.

               No, it can be shorter.

               “It seems we really are soulmates, after all,” Jaehyung says, looking down at the man staring wide-eyed up at him, lips parted in awe, eyes looking glossy.

               Then, those eyes are crinkling. Then, those eyes become glossier. Then, those lips—those beautiful, beautiful lips—spread out to the widest smile he’s ever seen, wider than anything before.

               “Yes… we… _are_!”

               And suddenly, Wonpil is tackling Jaehyung to the ground, making him yelp out in surprise, his arms wrapping tight, tighter, its tightest around Jaehyung’s shoulders, Jaehyung’s arms doing the same for Wonpil.

               Jaehyung’s butt lands on a particularly painful part on the ground and he’s pretty sure his jacket is covered in an offensive amount of nature dirt that Sungjin will _refuse_ to wash for him, but there’s a man laughing loudly and heartily on top of him, and there’s a man wrapping his arms so tightly around him, and there’s a man so beautiful, so wonderful, so perfect in front of him that he doesn’t care. No, he doesn’t care at all.

               Wonpil is both laughing and crying in front of him, an expression of pure glee dripping down as tears on his face. He looks like he wants to say something—anything, _anything_ to express everything he’s feeling right now—but he can’t, all the emotions bursting out of his lips before his words can even think of slipping out.

               Jaehyung finds himself laughing, too, the wonderful, _wonderful_ feeling of relief washing over him, painting him in all the colors of the world, opening all the doors to the universe. He places a hand on Wonpil’s cheek and wipes his tears from it, even when more keep coming.

               “Why on Earth are you crying, you idiot?” Jaehyung laughs, loving the way Wonpil leans further into his space.

               “How dare you call me an idiot, you idiot!” Wonpil giggles even more, wiping furiously at his tears. “I’m just super happy right now! Super, super happy!”

               Jaehyung feels a smile pull his face up even wider.

               “Me, too, Wonpil,” he says. “Me, too.”

               And the moment their lips meet and crash into each other, it feels even more perfect than the first time they met. More perfect than the first time they kissed. More perfect than anything in the world.

               His hands find their way onto the back of Wonpil’s neck and Wonpil’s hands find their way onto Jaehyung’s shirt and everything is perfect, so perfect. Right. Correct. Meant to be. Everything coming back all at once. Everything back into place.

               Jaehyung should’ve had more faith in the world. _Sorry, dude. My bad_.

               The world was right, after all.

 

Sungjin stares deadpan at the two couples spreading their disgusting love vibes across the four walls of the living room, the bowl of popcorn in his hands seemingly judging them as well.

               “Will you guys _please_ tone your love _down_?” Sungjin says, approaching the four of them with as much willingness as a child going to the dentist. “It’s giving me a headache.”

               “Oh, _please_ ,” Jaehyung says, waving him dismissively. “We’ve all been like this for a month now—stop pretending you’re not used to it.”

               “Sungjin-hyung is a tsundere!” Wonpil calls out from beside Jaehyung and they all fall into a fit of giggles, Younghyun and Dowoon snickering on the other side of the couch.

               “Ugh, am I glad to be both asexual _and_ aromantic,” Sungjin grumbles with a roll of the eye. “You’re all disgusting.”

               Sungjin settles down right between the two couples, settling the popcorn right on his knees. Younghyun reaches for a handful of popcorn but Sungjin smacks his hand away, making the latter whine and lament to his soulmate, who just pats his head consolingly but doesn’t try to convince Sungjin to let him have a bit of the popcorn before the movie starts.

               Wonpil scoots a bit closer to Jaehyung as Sungjin uses the remote to navigate through their selection of movies, and Jaehyung pulls him closer, arm draped around his shoulders, temple resting on his.

               “You know…” Wonpil starts, almost in a whisper, “I’m glad you almost got hit by a car a month ago.”

               “You _what_?” Dowoon pipes up from the other side of the couch and Jaehyung sends him a look that says, “Not now. Let us have our bonding moment.”

               “Pillie, I could’ve died,” Jaehyung says to him now, ignoring the looks of the others.

               “But we also could’ve never met,” Wonpil says, looking up at him. “You know I was on a different street when I spot that car speeding fast in the distance? And then I saw you on your way there and you weren’t even looking in front of you and my feet started moving before I knew it.”

               “So, either I die…” Jaehyung starts slowly, “or I never meet you?”

               “It sounds dark now that you say it like that.”

               Jaehyung mulls over it, keeping his head rested on Wonpil. Maybe if Jaehyung never met Wonpil—not once in their entire life—he’d have been fine with just walking safely on the streets that day, walking the way home to how things used to be, going about his routine as he’d always because he wouldn’t know what he was missing.

               But now that he’s met Wonpil, he doesn’t want to know what it’d be like _without_ him. Without that smile. Without that laugh. Without sunshine lighting on the life he didn’t realize had so many shadows filling up the spaces.

               “I think it’s a fair exchange,” Jaehyung says to Wonpil now, before leaning in to press a tender kiss on his lips, loving the smile that came with it.

               “ _Ugh_ , new rule!” Sungjin says, and Jaehyung and Wonpil pull away, though not unsmiling. “From now on, no kissing _or_ flirting during movie night. Are we all clear?”

               “Way to go, love blockers,” Younghyun calls from where he’s currently lying on Dowoon’s lap. “You ruined it for all of us.”

               But Jaehyung just shrugs, turning to the TV screen with a satisfied smile on his face, and snuggling closer to Wonpil. Whatever. They have plenty of time to kiss and flirt after the movie. And plenty more to do more than that.

               Dowoon stands up to close the lights and the movie starts, the first line opening the first scene.

  


  


  


  


  


**Author's Note:**

> well this was a fic that came outta nowhere, no freaking lie whatsoever
> 
> the idea just came to me at random, like literally popped into my head and was like, "dude you gotta write this fic" "but i have so many wips already" "did i freaking stutter" so yeah. this happened
> 
> but still tho ashjdahkd im rly happy with how it turned out and while there are parts i can still improve, i think it's good as is! also this is my first soulmate au aaaAAAAA i dont usu like to read OR write for soulmate aus but this was def the exception ^^ also this somehow turned into a valentine's day fic. i have no idea how that happened
> 
> also! i was planning on writing an additional chapter showing how briwoon got together, so let me know if you'd want something like that heehee ^^
> 
> ALSO!! everyone who doesn't know tadhana by up dharma down, pls listen to it and read the lyrics it is the most perfect embodiment of this entire fic and also pinoy pride 😤😤😤
> 
> special thank you to jessica ([@KIMDONGHANS](https://twitter.com/KlMDONGHANS) on twt) for beta-reading this fic! she pointed quite a few grammatical mistakes that would've made some of the sentences very confusing to read ^^
> 
> thank you so much for reading this and have a wonderful day!
> 
> twitter: [@raikayyylmao](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao)  
> curiouscat: [@raikayyylmao](https://curiouscat.me/raikayyylmao)  
> hellopoetry: [@ruqiruqi](https://hellopoetry.com/ruqiruqi/)


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